Tape
by SassyJ
Summary: Or The Perils of Deputy US Marshal Raylan Givens.


He squirmed angrily on the dusty floor, it was completely useless, but Raylan wasn't giving up without a fight.

A little cloud of dust blew up, and he sneezed. Hard. Smacking his forehead against the floor which did nothing for his thundering headache. Dazed, he lay still, head pounding, the cloth in his mouth drying up his saliva, the tape holding it in his mouth pulling at his hair and skin. Hands taped behind his back, ankles taped together, pulled up to tape his ankles to his wrists. Every single inch of his body hurt.

"_I do not need rescuing." Raylan was fairly certain the last time his voice had cracked like that he had just hit puberty. He scowled for added emphasis. Couldn't even remember how this nonsense had started, but dammit!_

_His tormentor grinned. That shit-eating, smug twinkle that made Raylan want to wipe that look off his face fast._

_Tim Gutterson's blue eyes danced. "Penelope Pitstop." He pitched his voice just that little bit higher "HEEEELLLP!"_

_Raylan stabbed a finger. Fuming, jaw-clenched, and utterly devoid of something to say._

"_You are 0 for three." Rachel practically sing-songed as she sashayed past. Raylan sighed, he might have literal seniority, being both older than Tim and Rachel, and having been in the job longer than either of them, but they were a team, and sadly for Raylan's ego, she was right. Tim had pulled Raylan's irons out of the fire more than once._

_Raylan grabbed the file, reached for his hat, "I do not need rescuing." He ground out through clenched teeth and stalked out before his ego could take any more hits._

Only now he did need rescuing, and quickly. He hurt, all over. The inmate was in the wind, and Raylan's car had four flat tires.

He had been forced off the road, there were just too many of them, and while he was trying to hold them all off and negotiate in a calm sort of voice, the inmate who had appeared meek and harmless had managed to get behind him had felled him with a single blow.

Raylan's recollection of events after that were a bit hazy, but when he finally came to, he was face down on the floor, gagged and hog-tied with duct tape.

"I apologise for the discomfort, but I'm afraid we cannot have you following." The conversational tone of voice was mildly disturbing, as Raylan realised that his meek little former accountant was anything but, he reckoned his head was a little scrambled, because although the cadence of the voice was familiar, there was something off about the accent.

The man moved then, crouched down by Raylan. "Sorry, but we will tell them where to find you." He pointed to the table, "everything is there." Then he actually patted Raylan's head, and got to his feet.

So Raylan was left, wrapped like a cheap parcel, to squirm and struggle against the confining tape.

He hurt, and earnestly wished that Tim would make it 0 for four, because he really didn't think he could hold out much longer.

"RAYLAN!"

Raylan turned his head to see Tim come barreling through the door. In that split second he was prepared to concede the whole Penelope Pitstop thing, if only Tim would get him out of this.

Tim was on his knees next to Raylan, he pulled out a knife, Raylan closed his eyes. He could feel the blunt side slide against his cheek, the sharp painful pull of the tape ripped back from across his mouth, fingers pulling the gag out. He coughed.

Hands gently cradled his head, pulling the tape away hurt, but then long fingers were stroking through his hair, his cheek was resting on a firm thigh. His hands were being freed, and they flopped to his sides, and there must have been someone else cutting the tape away, because those big strong hands never left his head and shoulder.

His knees had stiffened. A life time of baseball and running after criminals had taken their toll on his joints, and he caught his lower lip between his teeth as someone straightened his legs out.

The magic fingers never stopped their gentle stroking, he could even feel the circles being rubbed into his shoulder. The really sore one. He really didn't want to open his eyes, just in case all this wonderful comfort stopped and it was back to the teasing. Not that he couldn't give as good as he got, but this felt too good to let go.

"Penelope Pitstop."

Raylan cranked open an eyelid. He was resting on Tim, head on Tim's thigh, he could feel Tim's hand in his hair. His right arm really didn't feel like moving anywhere right then, but his left moved very slowly up, and his hand clumsily patted Tim on the hip.

"Heelllp!" Raylan whispered.


End file.
